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Motivated by a lack of material.

Resisting The Overwhelming Need To Be Petty

Ok we are all human. One thing about that is, it makes us subject to our very weak, vulnerable, not-so-positive characteristics. These aspects of us can be obstacles we will find difficult to overcome and many times we may not even have the desire to fight off these same undesirables.

All that build up is to try to make my story a bit more palatable. Okay I am actually trying to justify a particular behavior, that I am not quite proud of. Belonging to the gray brigade is a badge of honor that we do not always wear proudly. Especially when many of us aren’t exactly gray (thanks to hair/ color enhancing techniques), but nonetheless it is still a badge of honor. Honor is something that is bestowed on one not necessarily because of self-proclamation or even something that was intentionally done. It is given because one is oftentimes deserving of it but did not consciously seek the adulation. Let us move into the other direction, to the land of petty.

I make attempts to separate myself from certain situations and certain beings. I do this because I do NOT want to be committed to these same things and individuals. Keeping the expectation not low but nonexistent. Don’t misunderstand this, I am able and willing to help, and I will it is the obligatory socializing that comes as a reward for good deeds that I am not fond of. A simple “thank you” will suffice, and all parties can return to their respective spots.

Residing in a complex where the individuals fit into a certain classification has its benefits as well as its drawbacks. I gave up a degree of privacy for cost-effectiveness. I sacrificed a bit of luxury for convenience. I let go of these two things of my own free will and had virtually no regret, note I said virtually… My complex has many individuals of varying health conditions, the economic status is also a challenge, then there is the demographic in general. I realized when I came to this place it was going to be a place to rest my head; I would be cordial but not overly friendly, approachable, nor accommodating. Humans…we are such curious creatures. After the initial queries things began to calm down. Residents learned the new stranger was strange and perhaps stand-offish. But she was polite, helpful, and had a sense of pride in the community. Characteristics many of them lacked.

However, all of us wants/needs to be special. If it is as simple as seniority or complex as self-proclaimed entitlement these things make themselves known. WE are discussing petty here. At my residence there are no garages, a luxury I miss but have adjusted to. The weather here is not that extreme, we have a secured building, but no security gate to access our parking lot. We also do NOT have assigned spaces. Here it comes, that “seniority/ entitlement stuff”. There are a select number of individuals who have parked in a certain space so often they feel as though that spot belongs to them exclusively. Only outsiders park in the spots when these said individuals leave and if they return to find “their” spots occupied there is a sense that a true violation has taken place. I found myself buying into this culture before I actually knew what had happened.

I selected an area that I wanted to park my vehicle in. That area soon was narrowed down to a couple of spaces that fit my need/desires/ liking best. Several things were taken into account. What individual tended to park in the same area was a factor, as well as the car they drove and its condition. I was not upset if I vacated the spot and returned to find it taken, I simply moved to another. However, someone parked in “my” prime spot and stayed there all day one day. Then the next day they were again in THE SPOT. Now as I said there are several that can serve the purpose, but this had become my favorite. I would never confront anyone about parking in a non-handicap unassigned space, but after a couple days it did feel personal. I found myself looking out my window to see if the spot was available so I could move my car into THE SPOT. I felt the need to reclaim this unassigned spot that “I” had selected for myself. I did move my car back to my space of choice a couple of times and in the past that was all that was required for someone to get the point that space was basically taken. This did not seem to be the case this time. Now I was taking it personal. I found myself seizing any and all opportunities to take that space back. If it was late at night, if I was on my way out (because I am not tied to any real schedule) I initially pulled into that space if not for the person parking in the space, but for the other residents to see and possibly take notice and or report it to that person. I was delaying and altering my life for the sake of a parking spot.

Subconsciously I knew it was being petty. I knew I could park blocks away and because I was in decent physical shape and my car was properly insured, there really was no issue. Yet I continued to allow this to be something I took notice of. Ironically a couple things had transpired in a relatively short period of time. One of the key reasons I parked where I did was because there was an obnoxious drunk guy that used to make it his business to talk to me. My upbringing would only allow me to be so rude, so condescending … basically he never got it and if he did his intoxication facilitated him forgetting and speaking the next time he saw me any way. Avoidance was my only refuge. However, he moved away. I was thrilled. This freed up another area I could feel comfortable parking my vehicle in. Yet I still paid attention to where I used to park. Finally, I came to terms with “my petty”. It was a night that the weather was rather inclement. I looked out my window and saw the space was open. For an instant I imagined myself getting dressed, grabbing my keys and moving my car to a space that was farther away from the door, a space that would remove me from the comfort I had settled into for the night. THE SPOT. I was disappointed in myself, but happy for the realization that I was in fact being “PETTY” and it did not matter. Happily, I did not make that move, it was the first step in my overcoming one phase of my “petty”. I look forward to NOT allowing that to happen to me again. Even though I realize I have that in me, and I sincerely hope it does not manifest in the form of a parking space again.

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“SlimPickins”

He offered to let ME buy him lunch once…In turn I laughed in his face. I was in my postal vehicle, wearing my wedding ring. Mr. Pickins was a patron, who lived with his mother, and waited for a general relief check each month. His was thin like his name suggests (which is a metaphor in case you didn’t get the memo), he was unshaven, unkempt, and far from articulate. His status and predicament, that I found ridiculous, was overshadowed by the fact he disregarded my marital status and without hesitation made me aware he was willing to let me be in his company. Yes, good ole Slim thought he was “prime real estate”… quite a catch. Furthermore, HE was unaffected by my response, and he did not shy away from meeting me at his mother’s mailbox on a regular basis, even after I had unceremoniously refused his offer. I thought him repulsive and shockingly arrogant. That was 30 years ago… how could I have ever imagined that this man was a precursor to that which was yet to come.

As I am now a part of the demographic that is in search of a companion. I still have nerve enough to have certain standards… in spite of the challenges that exist nowadays I refuse to lower those standards. I mean why can’t a man who walks upright or one that makes a complete sentence… Ok I am NOT quite that desperate, but it is not easy to meet a decent prospect these days ladies. The competition is stiff. I even had a so called interested party tell me that I should be kind to even the most ridiculous of potential suitors. He was making a case for his male brethren, of course he and I did not work out either. Expect nothing and that is EXACTLY what you will get.

Imagine you are a Sugar Junkie and being placed in a “candy factory”, complete with a Specialty Sweets Shop. The entire experience, the aromas, the visuals, and the tastes. You’d be possessed by the environment. At first the challenge would be to get to your favorites, then maybe to sample as many of the different treats at your fingertips. Then the realization that you can what you want and as much of it that you can consume. Urgency is likely the first casualty, what is the actual rush? Choice will be a close second, why do you have to pick at all because you CAN have it all. Control will hover around in varying stages. One might think there are so many consequences which should make one be cautious, but you must realize that so much can/will take place before the consequences occur and/ or will be felt. You could lose all of your teeth, become morbidly obese, or fall into a diabetic coma before anything would compel you to do the right thing. And even then, you are still in the “candy factory”. As time goes on you might slow down because you have to compensate for your condition(s). Get the idea? What role do you find yourself in? Are you the consumer or are you the product?

Mr. Slim Pickens has been in this factory. He either decided (not likely) to leave on his own or he had to leave because of his particular circumstance, but through it all he is still a contender in today’s climate. What’s more he is still presenting like he is that catch. Someone will take him….

Be strong, be vigilant, be patient… understand that most of these overindulgent out-of-control creatures in the “candy factory” have a base in self-control and decency.

The Music Takes Us There

You are moving along perfectly fine with a so-called “modern relationship”. Suddenly you notice this wonderful melody in the background. The music sounds so good, it makes you feel good, then you notice you are feeling good in the presence of this person. There goes our brains, song+ this person= good feeling. You are doomed.

At this point in our lives things are not as we were led to believe, or should I say we allowed ourselves to believe, uncomplicated, simpler, easier. Just when you thought you understood things, you had adjusted your mind to wrap around what the two of you were doing…now you feel some-kinda-way. This person even looks different. The cute little way they look when something is on their mind, that silly laugh…wait before you attached the beautiful song to them these very same things rather annoyed you. What is happening? Well, the first thing you HAVE to do is find out the name of that song and the artist. Because that song clearly defines what is going on between the two of you. Sound like high school?

Let’s step back, lets re-evaluate what has just transpired. We (the baby-boomers) have far too many things to figure out. We are NOT doing retirement and getting older like our predecessors did. We listened more to what doctors said about taking care of our physical selves, we made some good decisions about our financial situations, many of us think our mental health is important and are proactive in that area. These things are scratching the surface of what we need to do to keep ourselves whole. Still there is more work to do.

So, we venture back into RelationshipLand. This “place” is crazy on the best of days. Now prior to that song entering your psyche, the lines were drawn and clear. Every other week at 1p.m. lunch at the best Thai restaurant in town, or was it “dessert” at your place at 1 a.m.? In either case, all parties concerned had a clear understanding of their role/position. Thanks to the blasted crooner you wonder what “he” is doing right now or is “she” wearing your favorite perfume. The smiles or tears are being induced by the lyrics you heard. Yet, you do not understand what has changed. The music is hypnotic, now your relationship has a soundtrack, now its very nature has been altered.

I love music, period. I use it to accomplish tasks. If I am working out at the gym, in the kitchen cooking (rare as that is) or sitting in front of my laptop writing… the music facilitates the processes. It is/can be a catalyst in many instances, as in this subject we are currently addressing. For all the love and respect, I give to the fabulous art of music, when it comes to affair of the heart, I would say enjoy it but don’t listen to the pretty words. For the music WILL take you “there”.

“Gun-Shy”

Well, it finally has happened. I thought I was immune. I knew the risks involved and felt I was up to the challenges. I have “weathered a few storms” and I chocked it up to process. However, I truly got blindsided. What’s more is I see myself retreating, in spite of the fact I know I must continue on.

Look, all of us have had experiences that stop us in our tracks. Most of the time we look at these experiences, take the information obtained, and use it the next time. I can only recall having the wind taken out of me, in my early days of dating. That happened because I had never traveled certain roads before.
Today a seasoned veteran, there was a bit of cockiness. I was self-assured, I did not feel invincible, but I felt like I would not get in so deep that I would not see certain dangers as they approached, let alone smack me in the back of my head. Yet, here I sit, injured, examining my wounds, and not knowing if I want to heal the injury or hope that I am not really looking at an actual wound. I am telling myself ridiculous things like,” maybe I am misinterpreting things…”

I now must admit I feel fear in treading the waters of the dating world. I have been hurt. I want revenge, I want retribution, but through it all I would give anything to be wrong. I know this cut is a deep one… I did not know or believe that one could still have this kind of feeling. It wasn’t this breathless when it was going on. Maybe because I was in denial, maybe because I told myself…”I like him, and I am possibly on the way to bigger and better”. However, I now know I was already at “bigger and better” and all the denial on the planet does not change what I am now experiencing.

Getting over and beyond him is only one aspect of this thing, I must now go through what seems to be considerable changes. I am pondering not wanting to put myself in a forum where this is possible again. That both frightens and saddens me. It is time to take a break, I think. I need to re-evaluate things, I need to revisit some ideas and yes, I need time to “lick my wounds“.

Truth is somewhere in between, wanting to inflict the same disappointment on this individual and relief that we did not work out, is real confusion. I not only let my guard down, but I was also adventurous (or naive) enough to relax some of my own requirements. I did this with my eyes wide open and as my inner voice was shouting,” You know you don’t like this and/or that characteristic”. I gauge how I am dealing with my feelings with a barometer, which has readings ranging from strong to indifferent. He is still teetering in the middle; I know that is a dangerous spot. He could slip back in; hey I might even be tempted to invite him back. That would be a tragic disaster in my opinion. He’d be armed with the knowledge I had felt something for him, and I accepted that which was unacceptable. He would have free reign and I would be handing it to him. See I already know the place we are now in, SHOULD digress to nothingness, for MY OWN GOOD.

The take-away here, the moral of this story… follow your first mind or be prepared to face the consequences.

You Sir, Are No Gentleman

I met him about 40 years ago. He was a funny, handsome (by some/many standards), charismatic young man. He was my friend, AND I kept him at-arms-length. I was married but even if I had not been he could not have ever been more than my friend. He was involved in a serious relationship and then there were the others. Oh, how he enjoyed the others. His horrible mantra was “8 to 80 blind, crippled, or crazy…” Now I know one might read this and already think they know my friend. One might wonder how/why I would call him my friend. One might wonder why I am even bothering to write about him. Well, the first thing that must be conveyed is my friend is merely a metaphor for a particular type of man and this is the story of how we can all find ourselves involved with this guy in a fashion one would have been willing to wager, would not/could not happen.

He walked onto the workroom floor in a way that let you know he was trouble. Then he’d flash his smile or pick up a heavy package or hold the door. You’d find yourself thinking and or saying, “You are so sweet”. I laughed as I saw my co-workers fall for him one by one. He had his pick, and he was by no stretch selective. He was an opportunist’s opportunist. Due to his nature, he did try his tactics with me. He did find I was a person of my word. He did not have time to alter who/what he was. There was a plethora of opportunity around, AND they were FAR less trouble. Thus, we became friends. He and I had philosophical discussions of the ills of his behavior, treatment of women, and his disregard of relationships. In my 20’s I pegged him, I also pegged his kinder, more subtle counterpart (the classic wolf in sheep’s clothing). Yet, through-it-all the reality of the situation, was we were all friends.

Years later, miles apart I discovered my friend had passed away from a heart attack. I found out from his counterpart, who continuously denied being anything like his buddy, all the while demonstrating he was exactly the same guy. It was no surprise (to me) that I did end up being personally involved with the “wolf-in-sheep’s-clothing” once I was widowed. I walked into it with my eyes wide open. I did fortunately escape. Even though I did not really want to escape. Nothing would have pleased me more than to be the one that captured the “wolf”. However, because I had been so “close ” to him, I could NOT ignore the signs.

As I fast forward, as I look at yet another archetype…I do wonder HOW I found myself involved with a new “wolf”! Too old, too smart, too sophisticated, too experienced for such nonsense to take place…yet it did. I can happily and not so happily say, I got out with minimal damage. I cannot help but send out the warning. It is as in all situations, someone doing something bad makes it hard for a righteous person or one trying to do the right thing. Somewhere out there a true gentleman, a true romantic, a truly good guy will have to be subject to scrutiny and suspicion Additionally, possible good relationships will be jeopardized and ultimately fail because of these bad actors and the need to protect our hearts, souls and purses. Be safe out there ladies, the wolves walk among us. They can appear to be sweet, chivalrous, good, kind, and yes church-going-fellows…BUT they are by no stretch GENTLEMEN.

Parting Gifts

There you are, standing waiting for the results. You hear those infamous words, “and the winner is…” Your name is not called. You get an accommodating smile, kind words as a testament to what a great job/effort you made. All you hear is, “I did NOT win. A game show tactic, a way to make all participants feel ok with where they ended up. Perhaps this is short-sighted, perhaps it is ungrateful, however, allinall, no one plays for second.

I recall vividly when Tiger Woods was at his peak, he was all the sports magazines and writers could talk about. Whatever tournament he was in, he was projected to win. He was in the number one spot without competing for YEARS. Disgruntled, disappointed players spoke of NOT being counted out, but they fell, one by one. Others, who included champions spoke of him and looked upon him in pure simple “awe”.

Then he met with his “fall from grace”. No one stays on top forever, but the abruptness of the ending is what bothers us the most.

All beginnings are or should be with hopeful expectation, this one was no exception. Not what was the norm, there was a degree of cynicism. You move forward anyway, nothing else of significance is happening…”why not” To your surprise it starts off good and gets better. RAPIDLY. Before you know it there are flickers of hope, they soon turn to stars in your eyes. The fact that he says and does the right things at the right time is no coincident or happenstance. You will later discover or deduce it was a plan, his “M.O.” Nonetheless for now it is all good! You make time for one another. There are countless reasons for communication you both seem to seize each and every one of them too. There seems to be a meeting of the minds and therefore why shouldn’t you endeavor a physical connection.

One of the biggest challenges of online connections and long-distance relationships is a time factor. When you are in close proximity, you figure out early on whether or not you want this to move forward, and it is as simple as selecting a middle ground location. The couple that has to face the fact they are miles and miles apart have to be cautious as well as factoring in timing. How long do we wait to see one another in person, where do we meet, if we like one another how far do we take this on an initial meeting? For one wrong move, one miscalculation or misinterpretation can destroy the potential relationship before it gets out the gate. Moving too fast may give the impression of desperation or promiscuity ( imagine that at our age). While moving too slow make for more competition to enter into the equation.

Therefore, you play it by ear, you go with your gut. At first seemingly you are on the right track. Then out-of-the-blue everything changes. You ask what happened, what is wrong with the other person, what did you do wrong. These questions asked separately or in conjunction with one another still call for expert interpretation and still you have a massive margin for error. One might think well go straight to the source. While that seems to make sense what gives you the expectation that any truth will come from the direct approach. Then you are left to your own devices. You figure, guess, surmise numerous scenarios and each of them gives you solace, until you entertain another possibility.

Nothing is feeling right at this point in time, and nothing makes sense. In my humble opinion it, all boils down to this, you were NOT playing for a consolation prize, you were in this to win. Somehow you fell short and for whatever the reason, nothing makes it better. In the end you realize that no matter what you obtained from this experience, there is virtually nothing to keep this from happening again. Yet you find yourself right back in the arena, playing for the win. Again

“HeyMs.Parker…..”

Anyone who knows their way around the “Friday” franchise is familiar with that quote. I can smile as I think of my younger brother’s friends who charmingly referred to me with that greeting from time to time. I was amused at the time and feigned flattery. Now as I look back, flattered is exactly what I should have been. I recall being told that the actress who played Ms. Parker, Kathleen Bradley, was a former Miss Black California and had been a model on the Price Is Right. I “tahtahed” that off, because as a part of the cult-following of the movie itself, almost all of the characters were special in their own rights.

Over the years there have been remarks some complimentary others had undertones of jealousy, judgement and judgmental. Being tall a lady makes one stand out. Yes, I emphatically consider myself a lady. I do not believe I have done anything to exclude myself from that classification. I am mostly amused by the reactions of my contemporaries and counterparts. I can only imagine what goes through their heads when a person who falls in the average category sees me (standing 5’10 in my bare feet) wearing heels and a dress that reveals my legs. Legs that probably look like they are far longer than they actually are. The standards of size, beauty, what is and is not acceptable, varies from one being to the next. Then the judgements begin.

When I used to deliver mail, female carriers had uniforms that included an item called culottes (split skirts). Doing a physical job like that, it is imperative that one is comfortable. The culottes were my choice. Neat, clean, and in approved standard attire I was still subject to snide little off-color comments. I was younger so not only did I not care, but I also had answers back for my critics and commentors. Years/decade later I still meet with the same types of critiques. I am fortunate enough to have decent health, I also try to stay healthy, I eat fairly good, I go to the gym daily, and I follow my physician’s advice. When I walk past the ladies in my community, a senior community that I bother to pick up trash around (that other have not so courteously dropped), and I greet them I am well aware that they do not approve of my look. If I am honest, I have to say, I STILL really do not care. I am not harming anyone and just like my old letter carrier uniform; neat, clean, and within the approved standard of… in this case decent. What I wear has all to do with MY comfort; how I feel and how I feel I look.

In my mind see Ms.Parker bending over in her shorts watering the grass, I wonder if I appear that way to people in the neighborhood. I am not even close to her image, but when we talk about perceptions who knows. One thing for certain, no one around this community will be invited in to “pray with me or “prey” upon me.

Just Somebody I Used To Know

I was about 18 years old and madly in love…with a young man who was NOT in love with me. One day while I was sitting at my job looking sad, likely just finishing my daily cry, one of my friends who was quite handsome himself, came to me and asked what was wrong. I told him of my lament. He sweetly told me, all you have to do is stop letting him have the power to hurt you, all you have to do is let him go. While that sounds like it is almost too simple to work, it was good advice. He was right. That’s another story, however it sets the tone for this piece.

In the wake of political decisions that seemingly are hurling us into our backward pasts, our friends, family, associates are polarized and vocal. It is happening in places and with individuals you could never imagine. Mine occurred in a subtle, innocent conversation with somebody I used to know. What started off and was, I believe was intended to be a casual, friendly talk and possible meet-up/reconnect became an eye-opening startle. The arrogance and entitlement came blustering through. I guess he thought he was being funny and cute. He may not even be aware that he was coming off offensive to me, for it was the undertones that came blaring out at me, even though he was not exactly directing his smug thinking at me.

Perhaps he had a bad day, maybe it was a direct encounter that prompted the talk. He could have been coming to someone he felt was close enough to in order feel something other than what he conveyed…end result is he unwittingly, unknowingly showed me something that made me feel quite happy we were no longer involved, and our contact was sporadic. Furthermore, he made me know that we cannot be ANYTHING even on the most miniscule level. I don’t even want to be in the same room with him. In my “eyes” he is a cretin. He disguised himself well, but the truth is any one of us can behave ourselves for a short period of time. What I find so ironic is that he did not consider the consequences of him revealing himself to me or affecting me in such a way that was not positive. Therefore, he had no reason to think I would not want to be in his presence. He clearly sees nothing wrong with what he said and that makes “us” having interaction even more ridiculous.

I thought maybe being around me, my ways, my points of view made him consider things outside his norm. There did not seem to be any communication issues, we talked a lot. However, once we were no longer involved, he was allowed/forced back to what was his comfort zone, the small narrowminded spaces he occupied along with the same type of people overtook him and returned him to something he had considered venturing away from.

I wish I was a big enough person to want to “pull his coat-tail”, I wish I could get beyond my being offended to try to inform and enlighten a once seemingly good person. I am not, all I want him to do is go back where he came from, no longer invade my space and allow me to forget I ever met such a human. Then if I ever by chance run into and cannot avoid him completely, I can tell myself he is somebody I used to know, with a question-mark.

“Rats In Cuter Outfits…”

I guess I cannot help but to utilize metaphors in describing this journey through ” senior dating”. Try not to laugh. Although I find it comical as well as frustrating. Admittedly, I do not know what it is I am in search of at times. The one thing I am clear on is that I certainly have NOT come into contact with it…so far. As amazing as it seems, I am still hopeful. There is the possibility of a miracle.

Here we are, figuring this “stuff” out. “IT” is not easy. Just when you think you have the answer(s) you seek, an exception/a variation appears. Now it seems we have formulated this set of “deal breakers” but then along comes the one who is checking off all of the boxes, so many of the boxes and as time goes on…one or two of the boxes.

What began as legitimate requirements and at times very superficial whims begin to degenerate. Try as you might, resist valiantly, after several failed attempts you find yourself sitting across from an individual that you aren’t sure can walk upright, let alone carry on a coherent conversation. Strict and proper upbringing makes you try to be polite and not literally RUN FOR IT! This is not funny/fun anymore; it is becoming scary. Yet as bad as this type may seem, there is one much worse.

The one who is worse gives off the appearance and demonstrates the temperament of a serious contender. He is the squirrel…he gets through the phone calls, he is familiar with eating utensils, he even has the right look. However, upon closer examination the truth about him comes out. You start to see through that fluffy coat and full plume covering his tail. The cute little twitching nose starts taking on familiar characteristics of a rodent. His bight eyes become beady. Suddenly you realize he is that rat, that same rat that you find repulsive and determined is unwelcome in your life. You ask yourself how he got past all of the screens you set up. Then it hits you, he was wearing a disguise. However, like any disguise, it eventually has to come off. In this case when he dropped his guard, the costume fell to the ground and revealed although you had been keeping company with a squirrel for sure, he was still just a rat in a cuter outfit.

Splintered, Fractured, and Shattered

As I finished my cardio workout at the gym this morning, I felt it happening. It comes from nowhere, out-of-the-blue. My eyes are drawn downward, then the tightness is felt in my chest, then finally the water begins to well up in my eyes. Though the years have passed the feeling, the hurt, the pain returns with the intensity and velocity they had the moment it happened. I tried to look upward so the tears would not fall. I inhaled and exhaled deeply, not uncommon while one is working out so it could go unnoticed, but you must understand when the grief overtakes me, I really don’t care who sees me. This thing that was happening was the result of me trying to fight it off, my attempt to keep the sadness at bay.

I moved to the next machine and the thoughts started happening. “You know you are never gonna be whole again”, the voice said to me. YES, I know this consciously. I counted out my sets but there it was, ” You have lost every close familial relationship one can have. Father, mother, child, sibling, spouse and 4 of those 5 took place inside of 3 years. How crazy are you?” I have to realize what an effort it is most days to simply remain upright. I was ready to just stop my workout. I saw myself walking out of the gym, getting into my car, and staring out into oblivion before I collapsed into and puddle. I could picture the mess that I am, I could hear that primal scream. It all seemed too real but yet I was still in the gym, still at the triceps’ machine. I also still exist in the place where all of the afore mentioned loss has occurred. I still want to escape the reality of that. I continue my work out, and do in fact manage to finish it without losing control.

As I get into my car and prepare to leave, I realize how very broken I am and furthermore how I will never be the whole individual I once was ever again. I liken myself to a car without its engine, brakes, powertrain and even the steering wheel. At first glance it can be recognized as a car, but upon close examination you soon discover it is missing parts. It is not beyond repair, it can run again, it is in need of some very vital parts. Without those parts it will simply sit in a stationary position and deteriorate. Unlike the car what is missing from me cannot ever be replaced; substitutions and distractions are the best that can be hoped for from my splintered, fractured, and shattered existence. There are still good things left as with the metaphor (the car) you just have to realize that even put back into running condition it is/I am forever changed, and I shall always be aware of that which I used to be/that which I have lost.

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